“I Never Meant To Hurt You”

I hope when I grow up I’m still the same person I am now.

I hope I still find joy in the different colours of the sky

I hope I still see love as one of the most beautiful thing in the world.

I hope my heart still stays kind.

I hope I still find peace is helping the homeless, seeing kids smile, believing in God.

I hope the sound of the rain is still my favourite sound and I never not see the beauty when the sky pours it’s own melancholy.

I hope art is still the only thing I know.

I hope New York still holds my heart right in-between it’s big city lights

Remembering how free it made me feel when I saw them for the first time when I was 13. And the fleeing moment when they stole my heart on the TV screen when I was 3.

I hope cats are still my favourite animals, that by the time I’m 60 I have at least 100.

I hope Disney movies are still my security every night I feel alone, and that chocolate is still my favourite thing to eat into after a bad breakup.

And that I never forget the dances to grease, that I’m still alive to watch my husband dance with my daughter to the songs as me and my father used to do when I was younger.

That country music is still the only way to understand any kind of hurt and conflict in my life.

I hope I never lose my love for Christmas and Halloween. That every year I get to decorate my house with too many lights and big Christmas trees. And that I get to give the kids extra candy and become the favourite house to trick and treat to.

That every time I pass a park with monkey bars I will still try it, knowing I’ll fail but hoping that I will at least get past one.

I hope when I grow up I’m still the same person I am now.

I hope I never grow up.

I am too good at loving the villain, romanticising the devil. maybe this is why I always searched for monsters under my bed, ready to invite him in.

maybe all this time, the monster under my bed was you. I was destined for nothing other than a fire love, torture. this is why your pain does not scare me. I was born to love your darkness and fed you my light.

come on my love, I will hide under the bed with you forever.

how the imagination is thick inside my head

you on top,

me underneath,

crumbling by just sound of your voice.

moaning by the touch of your fingers, and oh, how you move them just right.

tonight with you, I meet heaven for the very first time.

#poem #writer

a common thief. a women foolishly in love. a hopeless romantic. starting at the sky and stealing the stars. giving them to the people who were not truly worthy of them. give yourself a break little one, you too, deserve the stars.

My time spent with him in the crippling cold and cosy months of October and November are going to be something my heart will hold onto forever. The sneaking around, nights spent up laughing. The echoes of happiness filled my room. Butterflies covered my shelves. The moment and memory of a first kiss. And the feeling of it being left to linger with its sweet and sugary taste. My first crush, my first kiss, my first time. If only it had really gone that way. If only it had lasted a little while longer. Ripping into the weeks of December and how it had nothing to offer but the ghost of him and what once was ours or bound to be ours. December was spent dying,fading and hugged tight between the arms of solitude. Each night my pillow drowning with tears, and the dark nightfall sky hearing my roaring screams as I beg for his love.

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love is understanding that he brought back the light in me, and I created the light in him. Even if the story ends with us shinning in different rooms.

Love me and I’ll do the best I can to steal the night sky for you.

Sometimes I cry because of happiness, there’s rare moments in my life where melancholy isn’t the reason for the waterfalls that are pouring from my eyes. Sometimes happiness gets to the best of me, it swims around inside my body. I’ll see too people in love, or a person achieve something they pushed themselves above the bar for, and if will make my heart swell. Happiness is beautiful.

The raging impulse that love gives us. The thump and creeks of the hallway floor as I ran after you. The drum of my heart had never been so loud.

I stood in front of you, pleading for your love. “You’re hurting me, but still I want your love”. There is no “I love you” better than the way you say it.

If having you meant to be hurt then so be it. Destroy me, burn me to ground and forget about my ashes, love me but love twenty other people at the same time…at least you’re still loving me, right?

I love you, but you don’t love me and I don’t know how to cope. So I’ll bleed a thousand words until love doesn’t feel like choking anymore.